Changes
by AbandonedDreams
Summary: A rewritten version of what i had posted before. After being seemingly abandoned, Harry takes back some control. Soon though things change. Can Harry cope? Or will he change too much? Dark Harry! Slash in l8r chapters
1. Chapter 1

Summary: After being seemingly abandoned, Harry takes back some control. Soon though things change. Can Harry cope? Or will he change too much? Dark Harry! Slash in l8r chapters

Warnings: Adult language, Adult situations, Mention of sensitive topics, Abuse.

Disclaimer: I do not own, nor make any money from my writings.

Authors note: ok so im posting this again, mostly because its bugging me. I have no idea how long it will take to finish, but i will update as often as possible. Review will be more than welcome, though i may not reply as i dont like to leave authors notes too much. Enjoy!

**Changes**

Harry was angry. Not just slightly angry either. No. He was bloody furious!

On arriving back at the Dursley's he had been unceremoniously locked in his cell turned room, the door only opened twice daily for bathroom breaks and to have left overs shoved inside for him to eat. To start with Harry had welcomed this. His so called family totally ignored him and that meant no abuse and no god damned chores.

After the disaster at the Ministry, Harry found he simply couldn't take anymore. So many had died because of him. Sure people would tell him it wasn't his fault and that it was Voldemorts, but if he had only… No. He wouldn't think about it now. Depression had quickly overtaken Harry in the weeks he spent thinking in his room. His nightmares plagued him endlessly, and he frequently found himself re-living them even whilst awake. His parents, Cedrick and Sirius's deaths were played over and over in his head.

Staring out into the nights sky, Harry clenched his fists. 6 weeks. 6 bloody weeks he had been stuck here, wallowing in his own self-loathing. They had all abandoned him. Not once had he received a letter from his so called friends, not once had the order checked up on him like they had promised, and not once had anyone made any effort to tell him what was going on! He had absolutely no contact with the outside world, be it magical or muggle, and it was sending him stir-crazy! Tracing the many lines that decorated his arms Harry watched dawn break and the new morning light filter through his barred window. In a way he couldn't blame them all for leaving him. After all, all that stood by him, died.

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The screams were loud, painfully agonizingly loud. The sound burrowed deep inside his scull, tunnelling into his bones. Make it stop, he thought, Oh Gods, make it stop. People were crowded around. Faces looking down at him, some hateful, others red with insane laughter. Hands were moving over him, grabbing, pinching, punching. Oh how it hurt. Everything hurt.

Bolting awake Harry glanced wildly around his 'room', terror gripping his throat as his breaths came in short sharp gasps. A dream, only a dream. Looking down at his body he couldn't help the keening wail that escaped his lips. Bruises littered his skin, red angry pinch and fist marks everywhere. With wide eyes Harry looked into the mirror on the far wall. There it was, staring angrily back at him. Red and throbbing it was a constant reminder to him. There was no escape, no matter where he went, what he did, Voldemort would always be right with him, in his head.

Stomach lurching Harry did the only thing he could. Grabbing the mirror off the wall he propped it up against his head board. Sitting cross legged opposite it he pulled something out from under his sweat drenched pillow. Metal glistening in the afternoon light, it called to him. 

Gazing in the mirror he bought the dagger to his forearm. His lips twisted into a grimace at the irony of it all. The dagger was one of the many things Harry had inherited from his godfathers death, the death he had caused.  
Staring into his own cold eyes Harry bought the edge of the dagger across his flesh. Hard.

When he awoke, it was to silence. He knew at once that he was alone. His body ached and he could feel the blood from his cutting trickling down his arms. He tried to open his eyes but found the lids were too heavy. Lying still Harry again tried to pry his eyes open. His eyelids felt as though they had been coated with cement. The light was almost blinding, whimpering he blinked repeatedly to try and clear his vision. His glasses were missing. Looking around he could make out some hazy buildings. Sighing he recalled what had happened a few hours earlier.

_Watching the blood seep from the deep cuts in his arms Harry didn't notice the heavy footsteps on the stairs. As he repeatedly slashed into his arms he didn't hear the bolts unlocking, nor his uncle opening his door._

"_Bloody hell! Boy! What do you think you are doing!"  
_

_Startled, Harry could do little as he was dragged sharply off his bed and thrown half way across the room. As his vision started to fade he barley heard his uncles ranting as he was loaded roughly into the back of a car.  
_

"_No way you are going…top yourself… my house! Damn good… freak! Bleed all over my house… Had enough! … put up … freakish way… long enough!"_

As much as Harry could figure, his uncle had dumped him somewhere after finding him. Sitting up painfully he was relieved to find his wand in his pocket, intact. After cleaning himself up best as possible he stuck his wand out and watched as a rather blurry night bus came hurtling to a stop, just barely missing him.

"Neville! How are ya"

Smiling weakly Harry asked to go to the Leaky Cauldron, made his excuses and found an empty bed near the back. Shutting his eyes he gave into the waves of exhaustion that rolled over him, praying for a dreamless sleep.

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Diagon Alley bustled with shopping witches and wizards. Everywhere he looked Harry could see Hogwarts students and their families shopping for school supplies. Ducking in and out of Alleys, Harry finally managed to get to Gringotts without being noticed. Looking around, Harry felt more than slightly out of place in his rag like blood soaked clothes. Walking up to one of the Goblins he tried to sound as businesslike as possible.

"I would like to make a withdrawal from my vault"

Although his voice didn't waver, he couldn't stop the blush at the Goblins stare.

"Hmm.. Yes follow me Mr Potter. I assume you have your key"

Luckily Harry had kept it on a string around his neck, just in case, and nodding an affirmative he followed the Goblin to the cart. Filling a bottomless sack with Gilleons Harry searched around the vault.

"Aha!"

Grunting slightly Harry pulled a trunk out from under a rather large pile of Gold. Opening it he sighed loudly in relief. Pulling out his invisibility cloak, he grabbed the rest of his things, including his firebolt and photo album, and put them all into his bottomless school satchel. He had put anything of value that he didn't need in his vault when school had ended. He was definitely glad now. Leaving Gringotts under his invisibility cloak Harry first decided he needed somewhere to sleep until school started. The Leaky Cauldron was definitely out of question, so a muggle hotel seemed the best idea. He didn't really expect anyone from the order to come looking for him, after all, they hadn't made any attempt to so far. Fighting back his anger Harry quickly made his way into muggle London. He was going to need some new clothes too.

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	2. Chapter 2

After checking in at a hotel not too far from the Leaky Cauldron, Harry washed off the blood that had dried on his clothes as best he could, and walked into London. After searching around for awhile he found exactly what he was looking for. Paying with the muggle money he had changed at Gringotts, Harry admired his purchases. He had never really had a chance to go shopping for himself and found he rather enjoyed it. The shop he had found had so many brilliant clothes in and Harry had most definitely 'splashed out'.

The growl of his stomach quickly awoke him from his thoughts. Getting back to the hotel, Harry ordered some lunch from room service and picked out an outfit whilst he waited. He had little under a week left until September 1st and he still needed to get some new robes and his school supplies. Once his food had arrived Harry all but devoured it. The Dursleys had fed him as little as possible and, he realized he hadn't eaten in a few days. A rather amused hoot made him look up.

"Hedwig!"

Harry hadn't taken Hedwig to the Dursleys that summer, his uncles threats to kill her last summer were still fresh in his mind. At the beautiful snowy owls disgusted but amused hoot he blushed and shrugged.

"Hey, my stomach feels like my throats been cut"

Downing his Pepsi, Harry moved over to stroke his beloved owl. He had sorely missed her during the summer months but it had been worth it to see her safe and well. Leaving Hedwig to finish off his sandwich, he grabbed his clothes and hit the shower. Shampooing his hair, he watched his blood slowly wash away. He hadn't meant to start self harming but after one of his many 'dreams' it had become a regular occurrence.

_Harry ran into the clearing. Under him, tatters of winter leaves were freezing in the slush. Night had fallen and the storm had drifted away, leaving a bitter coldness._

_His clothes clung to his form, soaking him to the skin. Breathing heavily Harry searched._

_A rustling behind him made his breath hitch. He could feel it coming._

_Stumbling he raced forward, there! Grabbing it he felt himself tense again. It was close. _

_Staring down at Godrics sword he felt his desperation ebb away. _

_He had found it._

_He was safe._

_As the bushed rustled again, this time louder, Harry drew the blade across his wrist._

Harry had woken up shaking and covered in a cold sweat. Trying to calm down he had almost fainted at the sight of the gash in his wrist.

Now, despite popular belief, Harry wasn't stupid. He knew he hadn't really been it that clearing. But he couldn't deny the evidence before his own eyes either. He had quickly realized it was another of Voldemorts tricks. He couldn't kill Harry in his dreams but he could torment him. And torment him he did. He would feed off of Harry's desperation, showing him things in his dreams that had Harry waking up and running for the nearest sharp object.

Banging his fist against the wall Harry cursed. He hated being so weak. He was playing right into the maniacs hands and he knew it. The sad thing was, he almost didn't care.

Rinsing and drying his hair he studied himself in the mirror. He had grown over the summer, now reaching somewhere round 6ft. Although still far too skinny, Harry had worked hard building up his muscles and was quite pleased with the results. His abs were firm and strong, and he had a six pack to die for. Dressing, he couldn't help but smirk further. He had chosen some black jeans, tight around the hips and backside but baggy, a simple black t-shirt with his black Dr Martins. Flicking his hair out of his eyes he studied his face. Whilst in muggle London he had bough some contacts but would probably get his eyes magically fixed later. Without his glasses he looked a lot older and less innocent. His hair was longer, almost shoulder length, and still black as pitch. Grabbing his wand, invisibility cloak and Gold from his bed, he gave Hedwig one last pat on the head before heading on out to Diagon Alley.

Whilst under his invisibility cloak, Harry weaved in and out of the crowds. He had already purchased his school supplies and a vision correction potion, surprisingly without any difficulty. It was almost as if invisible customers were normal. Laughing quietly he stepped inside Madam Malkins Robes For All Occasions and after looking around, pulled off his cloak. As much as he would have preferred to stay hidden, he couldn't exactly be measured for new robes if he was invisible.

Moving through the store Harry almost jumped at the sight of Draco Malfoy standing on the same stool he had seen him on before first year. Gulping quietly Harry noticed Malfoy watching him.

"Well well, if it isn't Potter"

Hearing Malfoys familiar drawl brought Harry down to earth with a bump. He was the first person he knew that he has seen in what seemed like forever. Giving a sharp nod Harry moved onto the other stool as he was measured for his robes. More than prepared to ignore the blonde boy he was quite shocked when Malfoy continued to speak.

"So how was your summer Potter? Go off with some mudblood friends did you? I of course did not partake in a holiday this year. My father being in Azkaban and all"

Harry ignored Malfoys name calling. He really didn't see why he should defend his so called friends when they couldn't even be bothered to write to him. Realizing what Malfoy had meant by the comment about his father, he opened his mouth to reply but was quickly cut off. Obviously Malfoy hadn't finished.

"Not that it bothered me of course. Those holidays always were boring, I'm quite relieved to not have had to go. And as for my fathers imprisonment, well, I'd call it Karma"

Completely shocked, Harry could only stare at the Slytherin. Did- did he just say he was GLAD that Harry had gotten his father put in Azkaban?  
Smirking Malfoy jumped off the stool and paid for his robes. Just as he was about to leave he turned to a still speechless Harry.

"Yes Potter, that was a thank you"

After Malfoy had sauntered away, Harry still struggled to fully grasp what had just happened. Malfoy, Draco-Rich-Stuck-up-Pureblood-Malfoy, had just thanked him, Harry-The-Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die-Potter, for putting his father in Azkaban. Staring at the door Malfoy had just passed through, all he could think was 'I've finally gone mad'


	3. Chapter 3

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September first rolled round all too quickly for Harry. His new found freedom was definitely not something he was willing to give up.

Travelling to Kings Cross in a muggle taxi had been a lot easier, though a lot more expensive, then Harry had anticipated and because Hedwig had flown on ahead to Hogwarts, Harry only had his new trunk to deal with.

Getting to platform 9 ¾ with little under a minute to spare, Harry left his trunk with the other ones and went to find an empty compartment. There was no way he was going to act as if nothing had happened between him and his friends (although when Harry thought about it, it hadn't, them ignoring him and all) in his mind, they obviously weren't the friends he thought they were. Finding an empty compartment, Harry slid inside and quickly locked the sliding door. Sitting with a sigh he pulled out a muggle novel and began to read.

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No one tried to bother Harry on the train. Many noticed their savoir was alone and that the door was locked but nothing was done about it. No one bothered him in the carriages up to the castle either. Sharing with some second years, Harry couldn't help by wonder why. He had expected some sort of reactions from Ron and Hermione, but he hadn't even seen them. Arriving at Hogwarts Harry kept an eye out for his former friends. He didn't know why but he had an awfully bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Thinking that the years of Divination had finally gotten to him he shook it off and took a seat by Neville and Seamus.

"Hey Neville, Seamus. How are you guys?"

Looking around Harry noticed many people shooting him weird looks but put it down to his new look.

"Um.. Hi Harry. A-are you o-okay?"

Puzzled Harry looked at the stuttering Neville but before he could ask, Dumbledore called attention.

"Welcome back to yet another year here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Before I start the sorting this year I have some sad, sad news".

Watching the aging Wizard with interest, Harry didn't see the many looks directed his way.

"As you all know, Voldemort and his followers have been attacking Wizarding and muggle families over the summer. These terrible attacks affect us all greatly. The last family to fall were well known to all here at Hogwarts, and their deaths will not be in vain. Let us all please raise our Goblets in tribute to this brilliant family, who stood for what they believed in and never strayed from the truth. Id like you all to please raise your goblets, to the Weasleys"

Frozen in his seat, Harry could do little but look wildly around the Great Hall. He couldn't see even one head of flaming bright red Weasley hair.

"No…"

Shaking his head Harry rose shakily to his feet.

"No.. no…"

"H-Harry mate? Um.."

Ignoring Neville, Harry stared at his ancient headmaster, trying desperately to find even a hint of a lie hidden in those ocean blue eyes.

"NO!"

Running from the Great Hall, Harry broke down in front of the lake. Mr and Mrs Weasley, Percy, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ginny, Ron. All dead. Killed by the man HE had to MURDER. All the pain Harry had suffered by his parents, Cedricks and Sirius deaths crashed down around him again ten fold. Dead. They were all dead.

Scrambling around in his pockets, Harry managed to find the pocket knife he had bought whilst in muggle London. Digging it harshly into his wrist he dragged it quickly up to his elbow. Great heaving sobs racked his slight frame as his blood ran quickly into the grass. They were the only family he had ever known, and now they were gone. Murdered for knowing him. Dragging himself to his knees Harry stared down at his arm and the puddle of blood surrounding it. The deep vertical gash from his wrist to elbow was still bleeding profusely but it looked like he had missed the vein. Wrapping it up in his cloak he curled up into a ball. He couldn't face going back to the castle now. How could he survive without Ron's snoring, or Ginny's giggling at lunch?

Dimly Harry realized that they never had the chance to write to him over the summer. He should have known something was wrong. It was his fault.

As morning approached, Harry awoke to find himself still painfully curled up by the lake. Shaking from the cold and dizzy from the blood loss he slowly dragged his painfully weary body back up to the Griffindore Tower. Only just realizing that the Fat Lady had let him in without a password Harry stumbled into his dorm, only for the sobs to return at the sight of Ron's empty bed. He couldn't believe it, he simply couldn't. His parents, Cedrick, Sirius, the Weasleys, all dead. 13 good people, dead, and probably countless others he didn't know about. Collapsing onto his bed Harry let his tears overwhelm him. Falling into a fit-full half sleep as his remaining dorm mates awoke.

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Whispers of the Weasley family deaths flew around the castle even though everyone had already known of the families fate. It had been covered in the Prophet. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had had the family kidnapped at the beginning of the summer. No demands had been made by the death eaters and soon the Dark Lords intentions had been made all too clear.

The mangled remains of the Weasleys had been found 1 by 1 over the summer. Each had been tortured and all had died by the fateful killing curse. It was a message. All who stood with Harry Potter would meet this horrendous end.

Harry Potter was once again the highlight of Hogwarts gossip. This time however, the gossip wasn't about which girls liked him and who he spoke to. Now people wanted to know where their savoir was. After 3 days the Boy-Who-Lived had still yet to leave his dorm. Whispers of him being dead or Dark spread like wildfire. False 'sightings' popped up all over the castle. But the biggest question on the student bodies mind was 'Why has nothing been done?'

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Headmaster Dumbledore was getting old. Even he had to admit it. The big game of chess called life was getting just a bit too strategic for his liking. Popping a lemon drop into his mouth he stroked his phoenix, Fawks.

Thinking back to the feast, Dumbledore realized that keeping his friends deaths a secret from Harry had been a very bad idea. He had hoped Harry would have taken the news somewhat better, being in the Great Hall and in front of everyone and all, but obviously not.

Much to the staffs dislike he had ordered for the boy to be left alone. He was grieving and hopefully the death of his surrogate family would reinforce his hate of Voldemort and make his job a lot easier.

Sighing gain Dumbledore wondered whether or not to tell him of Miss Granger..

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	4. Chapter 4

Whimpering in his sleep, The-Boy-Who-Lived was deep in the hell they called dreams. He was surrounded by corpses, everyone who had died, hating him, blaming him. Their mouths open in silent screams of pain, eyes burning red..

Gasping, Harry fought with the sheets tangled around his legs, still caught up in the terror of his nightmare. Finally getting free he curled up against the headboard, letting the tears cascade down his cheeks yet again as he rocked slightly, hugging his knees. Dead. He simply couldn't believe it. Thinking back over all the adventures he, Ron and Hermione had.. His eyes bulged. Hermione!

Scrambling weakly out of bed, Harry rushed as best he could, intent on seeing the

Headmaster.

"H-Harry?"

Startled, Harry couldn't help but jump. Gulping slightly he turned his wild eyes on an equally pale Neville.

"H-Harry, thank god, I, we were w-worried"

"H-hi Neville. I need to know, I-is? Is she? Mione, is she?"

Shaking Harry flinched when Neville moved towards him. Noting this Neville kept his distance but tried to look reassuring.

"Hermione's okay Harry. She's not coming to Hogwarts until next week. H-her parents wanted to keep her home for awhile. S-she's too upset. Um.. H-Harry where a-are you going?"

Turning away from the stairs Harry looked back at Neville. In a quiet voice he explained,

"He never told me Neville. No one told me about, about"

Shuddering slightly he squeezed his eyes shut tight.

"Thank the Gods she's ok"

Harry swayed on his feat, nausea and dizziness overtaking him. He felt so weak, like he could crumple at any minute. Seeing Harry go slightly green around the edges Neville panicked.

"H-Harry, I think y-you should go see M-Madam Po-"

Rushing forwards with a speed he didn't know he possessed, Neville barely managed to catch him in time.

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Harry stayed in the hospital wing for the remainder of the week. Insisting he was fine, he had managed to keep Madam Pomfrey mostly away from him.

Hermione had arrived the day before but had not visited. Harry didn't know anything else about anything else that was going on outside the hospital wing but this time his isolation was welcomed. He slept very little at night, his dreams filled with the faces of the dead. He couldn't eat, and vanished the food off his plate to avoid questions.

Sighing, Harry pulled on some clothes. Dumbledore had come to him the night before. He hadn't said much, sure he had gone on about hero's and virtue, but Harry hadn't been listening. He did catch onto the real reason of the visit though. He had to go back to classes.

Grabbing his cloak Harry shrugged it on. He didn't have to wear uniform anymore as he was in 6th year, but he liked the feel of it resting on his shoulders. A bit like he imagined a mothers hug to be.  
Giving a great sigh Harry shut his eyes briefly. He really really didn't want to do this.

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Potions. What a surprise. It was always the same. Whenever Harry's life seemed unbearable, it got worse. He was late, of course. The potions class room was in the heart of the dungeons, and there were a lot of stairs.

"Ah, well what a surprise! It seems our resident celebrity has finally decided to grace us with his company"

Sarcasm positively dripped from the potion masters words, trademark sneer firmly in place. Obviously, some things never changed. Harry didn't know whether to laugh of cry.

Ignoring his professor, Harry made his way into the classroom only to stop again. Hermione was sat in her usual seat, eyes red and puffy, bushy hair everywhere. She looked awful.

"Hermione" Harry whispered. Oh gods, thank god she was alright. Thank-

"Potter"

Confused, Harry looked around to see who had spoken, only to realise it had been Hermione.

"What? H-Hermione? Are you ok? W-wha?"

"Don't. Just don't!" Hermione glared at him, eyes sparkling dangerously. "Don't talk to me Potter! Don't, D-don't.."

Bursting into tears she pushed past him and out of the room. Harry stared at where she had been sat. Her books still rested on the table and her stool had toppled back onto the floor. He could feel his last spark of hope die out. His best friend, hated him. Blamed him. He had seen it in her eyes.

"Mr Potter"

Startled, Harry spun around. Stumbling slightly he managed to catch himself on the edge of the desk.

"Mr Potter!" Snape was getting irritated. "Get to your desk and set up your cauldron! Instructions on the board"

Sighing in weary resignation, Harry moved to an empty desk at the back of the class.

"Oh and Mr Potter? 5 points will be take for your tardiness"

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Lunch was unbearable. All the Griffindores grouped around Hermione. Harry didn't mind the solitude too much, it was the hostile looks and not too quiet whispers that got to him.

Not even pretending to eat he sat with his eyes downcast. He knew they where talking about him, about Voldemort. It was painfully obvious. Just that morning a muggle town had been devastated. The only sign of life was the Dark mark that had hovered above. Also, he discovered that somehow the prophecy has been leaked. Everyone knew.

Surprisingly the Slytherins had so far left him alone. Malfoys taunting had even stopped. Harry didn't know why, if anything, now that the prophecy was common knowledge, he had expected to be bombarded with trap after trap.

Pushing away from the table, Harry slowly left the Great Hall and headed outside to sit by the lake. His entire body ached. The steady blood loss from his cutting and the dangerous lack of food was slowly killing him. It seemed only his magic was sustaining him.

Folding his legs up against his chest and wrapping his arms around then Harry stared off into the distance.

"You know Potter, we really aren't all that different"

Still staring intently forward, Harry made no move to respond to Malfoys presence.

"Both of us are highly talented Wizards, Both of us enjoy the same things, Quiddich for example, and both of our lives are totally screwed up"

Now THAT got Harry's attention. Shifting his gaze to rest on the blonde boy he waited for him to explain. As Malfoy sat down next to him, he didn't disappoint.

"You see, our lives are both portrayed to be perfect. Ideal. You are Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. Famous and loved by all. I am Draco Malfoy. Son and heir to the richest Pureblood family in Wizarding England. Respected and envied by all. And yet, under that façade, we both suffer. We cry, we bleed, we scream. And no-one hears us. Ignorant to our torture we are overlooked as melodramatic or egotistical. Shunned because of the smallest lies. No, our lives are far from perfect"

He seemed to deflate slightly. Looking intently into Harry's lifeless eyes he grimaced.

"I know what you think of me. Draco Fucking Malfoy. Stuck up rich bastard. Though I assure you I'm not. A bastard I mean"

Pausing to chuckle darkly at his own twisted joke, Malfoys eyes glazed and he scowled.

"Sometimes, sometimes I wish I were you know. A bastard. Id be disowned, shunned, thrown out. Id be free. You see, my life is hell. It's a burning pit of angry flames and there's no escape. I have everything I ever wanted. Everything that is but love and kindness. My mother, oh my sweet mother. Sickly sweet. She is the centre of her own little universe. She cares only for herself, the latest perfume, of fashion. Not for her son. I am a necessity. Otherwise I am fairly certain I would have been terminated in the womb. Aborted like nothing. Why should she risk her perfect figure for something as trivial as a child? No, I am merely an heir. Then there is my father.  
My fucking father. The perfect Pureblood. Groomed, glamorous, smart. I should be so very proud to be his son. And I was, for a time. Blinded by my strict upbringing, I was a clone of dear old Lucious. Since I was small, I've had it drummed into me. I am Draco Malfoy. I am a Pureblood, I am better than anyone else. I tried to please my father as best I could. A regular little suck up. But then as I came to Hogwarts, I wasn't good enough. Whenever that mudblood Granger beat me in exams, or I lost the snitch to you, oh id hear about it. Id be beat black and blue. Told the same things over and over again. I am a Malfoy. Malfoys don't come second to ANYONE. Especially not a mudblood or muggle loving fool.  
I've come to hate my father. Yes hate. I cant stand to be near him. For fear of what will happen, and for loathing of what he has done to me. It got worse too, when the Dark Lord returned. My father had always praised the maniac, but now at his return, I am expected to as well. I must not only be the perfect Pureblood, I must also be the perfect Death Eater. I must follow our Lord. Bow down to every whim. Kill for him, Torture for him. Give my life if necessary and without question. I've seen it you know. There was a meeting at the manner, in the summer. I couldn't sleep and took to wandering the many halls. He was there. And there was my father, crawling and kissing the bottom of HIS Robes. I was stunned to say the least. I may have hated my father, but I still at least held a form of respect for the man. But seeing that!"

Malfoy lapsed into silence. He was breathing heavily and his fists were clenched tightly at his sides. It had been difficult for him to say all that. To betray his family.

"I have no wish to follow the Dark Lord, or my father. Don't get me wrong, I am proud to be a Malfoy. The fact that my father is a disgrace will not tarnish my family name, I wont let it. I am not exactly a light Wizard thought either. I like to think of myself as Grey. The best of both. And finally? I don't hate you Harry Potter. As I have been raised to. As I am expected to. I personally have no reason to. As I have said before, we are both so very alike"

Standing abruptly, Malfoy turned and walked back up to the Castle. Watching, Harry mused on what he had heard, before also making his way slowly back.

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	5. Chapter 5

3 weeks later found Harry again sitting by the lake. It had been another unbearable day of classes, vindictive whispers and suspicious glares. His nights had been tormented by the faces of the dead.

Hermione totally ignored him. Her dorm mates seemed to make a wall around her, perhaps to protect her, in case he would try to approach. They need not have worried, there was no way he was going to go near her. She had made her choice. His dorm mates had ignored him, even Neville shied away now. It suited Harry just fine. He didn't want to curse anyone with his presence.

As he watched the squid make lazy circles around the lake, Harry cried. As much as he hated himself for it, it was as if he couldn't stop, the salty tears fell anyway. Blurring his shaky vision, creating tracks down his cheeks. His mind was clear, empty, but far too full.

As a cold breeze wrapped around his shoulders, he shivered. It had been a warm day so he hadn't worn a jumper under his robes, and now with it lying underneath him, his t-shirt did little to block out the cold. Taking a shuddering breath and wrapping his arms around himself, he managed to get a control on his tears. He could see Malfoy walking towards him this time. He didn't really know what to make of the Slytherin, or what he had said, but he respected him for it none the less.

As Draco came to a stop beside Potter, he felt his heart clench. The boy really did look pathetic. He was way too pale, tear marks littered his face, and he was painfully thin. Draco had noticed he had not attended dinner yet again, and had bought a few pieces of bread and some sausages with him, wrapped in a napkin. It wasn't much, he knew, but it was better than nothing. As he set down his own robe to sit on, he passed Potter the small bundle of food.

"Here"

"T-thanks"

They sat staring out into the lake silently, Harry occasionally nibbling on the bread. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but not exactly calming either.

"What you told me, you were serious weren't you"

Malfoy didn't answer, he didn't need to.

"My family, the Dursleys, they hate me. Year after year I go back there. For my safety apparently, but I don't see how I am safe there. I am beaten for my freakishness, forced to do endless chores until I pass out from exhaustion, I'm fed once every two days, and sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. Its always been the same. I've grown up knowing I'm different, wrong. Forced to watch my cousin get everything he ever wanted, whilst getting and deserving nothing myself. When Hagrid came and told me of the wizarding world, I though I had come home"

He took a gulp of air and forced himself to meet Malfoys eyes.

"My life, its one big cosmic joke. Thousands of people look to me to save them, and yet, I cant even save m-my friends"

The tears fell again. Sobs shuddering through him.

"I-I I cant even s-save myself"

Malfoy didn't move to comfort the boy physically. He didn't know how. He did stay though, as Harry sobbed, and that meant so much more.

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Months passed and Harry slipped into a routine of sleepless nights and empty days. Christmas approached slowly and tension could be felt throughout the wizarding community. It had been a week since the Death Eaters had staged their last attack, and their inactivity never meant anything good. The Halloween feast had been a great deal more subdued than normal, even without the ever unwanted presence of the not so golden boy.

Harry Potter now spent his nights in the room of requirement. He had stopped sleeping, or rather being in the dorm after a more than slightly upset and angry Dean had thrown him out.

_Harry was just entering his dorm when suddenly a well aimed punch in the mouth sent him painfully to the floor. _

"_How fucking dare you Potter! I've had enough of you, strutting around! How can you even sleep in this room knowing Ron's bed is empty because you got him bloody well killed! Lapping it up are you? Loving the way the dorm is so quiet now eh? Yeh I'll bet!"_

_A kick in the ribs had Harry coughing up blood as his dorm mate ranted and raved. He could vaguely see Neville behind him but the boy looked terrified. No help from there then._

"_And don't think we haven't seen you with that fucking Death Eater either! Sitting outside like pals! Hermione can barely get through a day without bursting into tears! And there's you! The one fucking responsible, fucking well hanging out with Malfoy who probably helped kill Ron!"_

_By now Harry had simply curled up in a ball and stopped struggling. What was the use? When Dean finally stopped screaming, he threw Harry's trunk at him and declared, rather loudly, that he could "fuck off to his murdering friends and never come back"._

Ignoring his almost untouched meal, Harry downed his water. He suspected it contained potions or vitamins as he had stopped eating properly months ago and yet could still function, al bet shakily. He didn't attend meals anymore, and somehow Harry suspected a certain overenthusiastic house elf had taken it upon himself to send Harry food and drink as much as possible, ensuring he didn't die from malnutrition. Well, not just yet anyway.

The months of starvation had literally eaten away ay Harrys body. His muscles had wasted away to nothing and his skin had an unhealthy yellow pallor to it. Bone stuck out painfully and Harry suspected he could even give Voldemort a run for his money in a freak show.

Students would be returning to their homes in the morning, all ready to spend Christmas with their families. Harry was however, once again left alone at Hogwarts, this time though, without his friends. He has stumbled upon one of the times Hermione would speak freely in the common room and had discovered that she was going home for Christmas. Harry was happy for her, in a way, but jealousy gnawed at him anyway. She was so very lucky to have family who loved her. He would give anything for what she had.

Pulling out his charms essay he pushed the thoughts away. Although he still wasn't eating much and sleep escaped him but for a couple of hours here and there, Harry was putting a lot more effort into getting himself back on his feet. He had begun to train physically again, and concentrated a lot more on his studies. Reading helped him expand his knowledge and already he could feel the advantage it gave him, with much more at his finger tips.

He finished his charms essay and turned to potions. It seemed as much as Harry learned on the subject, something always confused him, making it difficult for him to fully grasp the subject. Refilling his quill and pulling out yet another text book, he prepared himself for a busy night.

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	6. Chapter 6

Authors Note: i just wanted to say, that i hate this chapter. lol i couldnt get it to write like i wanted it, so im sorry if its a bit crappy. also, thanks to everyone who has been reviewing, i really appreciate it. thanks!

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The Christmas holidays dragged painfully for Harry. Hermione and the other students had gone home, leaving Harry and a few others behind. He didn't know any of the others who stayed, and mused that even if he did, no one was talking to him.

As midnight approached, Harry was yet again wandering around the many halls of Hogwarts, hidden under his late fathers invisibility cloak. It was Christmas eve, and he silently reflected back onto his previous years at Hogwarts. Usually around this time, he, Ron and Hermione would sit in the common room, curled up in blankets and wish each other a merry Christmas. It had warmed his heart, at the time, to know he was so well loved. Now, it simply hurt.

As the grand old clock of the main hall struck 12, Harry fell to his knees in pain. His scar felt as though it would split open, a scream that tearing from his throat. His vision blurred, sound rushing to his ears, and he could have sworn he could hear screaming. Not his mothers, as he would have expected, but someone else, someone young, someone lost.

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It had been little under a week, since the attack on Harry Potters mind. After passing out in the great hall, he had been found in the early hours of the morning by the squib caretaker Filch, his invisibility cloak resting next to him. Since then, he lay in the hospital wing, in a Coma.

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Dumbledore sighed. Harry lay pale against the white sheets, eyelids flickering restlessly. It seemed he was in a magical coma, for his body refused treatment which would otherwise wake him. Voldemort had struck out hard on Christmas day, killing 10 muggleborns families. 6 of those had children in Griffindore, 3 from Hufflepuff and 1 from Ravenclaw. And Harry, poor Harry seemed to have seen it all.

This shouldn't have happened, this wasn't how it was meant to be damn it! Everything was going horribly wrong, and Dumbledore wasn't sure he could put this right.

"Any change headmaster?"

Severus Snape was well known for his dislike of the Potter brat. His arrogance and fame irritated him too no end, but even he could see that something had been very wrong with him since his return.

"No Severus, no there has not"

"I have the potions you asked for Headmaster, however I do not see how these can be of any help -"

"Hope Severus, they give me hope that he will wake, and they will be needed when the time comes"

Watching their sleeping saviour, the two wizards couldn't help but think that instead of when, it was more a matter of If.

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_Flames, high and bright they twisted with their deadly dance. The entire house was aflame, trapping those sleeping inside. He knew this house, had lived here, suffered here. Harry Potter looked on in muted horror, as his relatives awoke. Screams rose, shouts for help. He was so close, he could feel the fire burn into his skin. He could feel their pain. He could help them! He could save-!_

_No, no he couldn't. He couldn't save them, couldn't save anyone. Not Hermione, or the Creevy brothers, or any of his other fellow students who had fallen. Why should he even try? It always ended the same. Death, destruction, pain. _

_Sitting cross legged on the lawn to his enforced home, he watched the fire consume those inside. He listened, surprisingly calm, as the screams pitched in agony, as they spluttered and died. Neighbours and muggle services littered the street, fighting to put out the fire which raged with magical strength. _

_None saw him, none but Lord Voldemort, who stood just behind him. He knew his pain, he had caused it after all. He dragged him here, into vision after vision, to witness the horror, the death. He wanted him to understand, that this was what life brought, that this, and only this, was real._

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_It was dark, the shadows wrapped around him, comforting him. It wasn't often that he was able to visit this place, not anymore. Now his dreams were filled with the pain of others, not this calm void he had come to love. Here he could think, away from all the feelings which choked him endlessly. _

_He had no control of course. He simply drifted in and out of these visions, bracing himself for what was to come. To begin with he had tried to resist, tried to help those who needed it, tried to escape. Now though, he simply watched. Passive, defeated. He knew it was beyond his control, and that Voldemort would explain when he was good and ready. Until then, Harry watched, and he learned._

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Draco Malfoy glanced around his room with ill disguised unease. Today he would be returning to Hogwarts, and something just didn't seem right. His trunk lay open on his bed, robes folded and books stacked neatly inside. Everything seemed to be in order but.. What was he missing!

"Draconis, I assume you are ready to leave?"

Mentally, Draco cringed. He hated it when his father called him Draconis. It usually meant one of two things, either he wanted something, or he had done something wrong. Either way, it was never anything good. Turning he managed to keep his face clear of emotion. If anything was ever sure to piss his father off, it was emotion.

"Yes father I am"

"Good. The train leaves shortly, and I will not tolerate tardiness. Be ready to leave and be sure to say goodbye to your mother in the drawing room"

With a sharp look, the elder Malfoy left his son alone. Sighing in obvious relief, Draco spared one last look around his room before shutting his trunk and having a house elf take it to the train. Whatever he had forgotten would have to wait, he knew better than to go against his fathers orders.

Stepping into the lavishly decorated hall, he quickly made his way down the winding stairways leading to his mothers drawing room.

"Mother, I have come to say goodbye, I leave for the train shortly"

"What? Oh yes, ok dear, do have fun"

Narcissa Malfoy sat elegant as always, flicking through the latest French summer robe catalogue. The appearance, and imminent departure of her son concerned her little, as had much of his comings and goings throughout his life. She was a true believer in Pureblood ways, and the treatment of her son and heir was clearly shown as such. It should have saddened her, that she knew so little of her own flesh and blood, but it did not. After all, between lunches and important social functions, how could she be expected to chase him around as well? Ridiculous to be sure.

He hadn't expected anything more. Draco had learned long ago that his mother did not care for him as other mothers did. It did not lesson the pain however, the emptiness he felt. He wondered sometimes, what he had done, who he had pissed off in a past life to deserve this, but figured it didn't really matter anyway.

Draco didn't see anyone else as he flooed to the platform. Sitting in his compartment on the train, he wondered how Potter was. He had heard his father boasting about the attacks on the muggle families, and knew the raven haired teen would react to them badly, especially as Granger had been one of them.

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R&R!


	7. Chapter 7

_A deep, thorough darkness. Silence, not the calming kind he hoped for, but more of an oppressive blanket which threatened to smother him. Nothing seemed to move, and he knew what was coming. Watching the ever lasting shadows, he waited._

_Squinting at the sudden flair of light, he looked around with a dejected interest. It seemed he was in a study; strong mahogany furniture was prominent throughout the room, blending elegantly with the deep crimson walls. The floor was a deep black stone, matching crimson rugs littering it randomly. The light didn't seem to have a source as such, but floated around the room as a gentle mist. _

_This was new._

_Standing in the middle of this mysterious room, he made no move to investigate further. He had learnt long ago that what would happen, would happen, regardless off what he did or didn't do. _

"_Harry Potter"_

_Slowly turning toward the serpentine voice, Harry smiled grimly._

"_Lord Voldemort"_

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The first day of classes shone bright and clear. A mockery perhaps, of the sorrow that laced the lives of those underneath it. Everyone had been affected by the Christmas holiday deaths, even Slytherins had lost friends. The great hall was unusually quiet at meal times, the only talking done in hushed whispers.

Harry Potter lay still in the hospital wing, deep in the magical coma that trapped him. It was a secret, so of course the whole school knew. Some were shocked, some worried. Most were unconcerned, and many were maliciously happy. It was clear the he was their saviour no longer, a fallen angel of sorts. Many hated him, blamed him for their misfortune and sadness. There were a few however, a scarce few who cared.

Draco Malfoy sat in the great hall and glared at all around him. With his return to Hogwarts, he had expected people to be in grieving, he had expected the sorrowful atmosphere. What he hadn't expected was the enhanced hatred towards the boy who lived. How could these idiots blame a boy who wanted only to help them! To save them! Sneering, he pushed away from the table and strode from the hall, intent on visiting said boy. This war was becoming more ridiculous by the second, lines blurring until Draco couldn't define who was on which side anymore. The so called light side had a lot to account for it seemed, leaving their only hope to waste away. They were damning themselves, and he'd be bloody stupid to go down with them.

Striding into the hospital wing, he gave little heed to the mediwitch scowling at him, and slowly pushed aside the privacy curtain keeping the boy wonder from others. Dracos first thought was that Potter looked dead, but the slight rise and fall of his chest said otherwise. Sitting in the uncomfortable chair provided, he studied him, thinking over everything he knew.

He didn't support Voldemort, though he understood some of his motivations. It was a shame, in his opinion, that he had been so consumed by the Dark Arts. Not many were able to hold of the madness that threatened when using such powerful magic, and Voldemort had been no different, no matter how powerful he claimed to be. The sheer insanity that drove him now would not be enough to fulfil his aims, and Draco mused that he was more likely to simply cause mass destruction rather that a successful revolution.

Dumbledore was a whole other matter. The all powerful pinnacle of the Light side was just a bad as Voldemort in many ways. He was cold and manipulative, the end justifying the means personified. As long as it was for the 'greater good', sacrifices were acceptable. It didn't matter that it was families he destroyed, children he ruined. Harry Potter was evidence enough of that.

Draco didn't want to have to choose between the two. To pick a master was bad enough, but here the options were little different. Whichever he chose he would have to serve with his unwavering loyalty, and his life. He had hoped, that Potter would show an alternative, a third party in this war, but the boy was so lost himself...

Sighing, Draco picked up his lost saviours hand and closed his eyes. He didn't know what to do, and it worried him. His father's threat over the holidays was an unfriendly reminder that he would have to act soon, but his options were unthinkable. Running away was looking damn appealing at the moment.

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_Unaware of the blonde holding his still mortal hand, Harry Potter conversed with the Dark Lord. Strange as that was alone, stranger still was the lack of animosity between them. _

"_I trust you know why you are here Harry?"_

_Sighing, Harry threw himself into the leather chair opposite his parents' killer. _

"_I knew you would come to me eventually, to tell me why you brought me here. For a while I thought you would kill me, or something, but now I'm not so sure"_

_Laughing cruelly, the Dark Lord steeped his hands in a way scarily reminisce of Dumbledore._

"_Perceptive as usual, Harry. No, simply killing you is not my intention. You have spurned me on numerous occasions in the past, and it would feel something of an... Injustice. No, I wanted you to see, to understand what is happening around you Harry. These deaths, the mudbloods and muggle lovers, I wanted you to understand that this is necessary. My vision, Harry, is one of Wizarding superiority, and it cannot be taken lightly. Oh don't get me wrong, a peaceful transition would suit an ideal world, but in these times, drastic times bid for drastic measures. "_

_Calmly, Voldemort watched Harry take in his words. He could see the disgust and disagreement in his features, but it was somewhat mechanical, as if he was simply going through the motions. _

"_The crux of it Harry, is that I have been watching you. Dumbledore has failed, yet again, to protect you from both myself, and your disgusting muggle relatives. How can you abide by it, I wonder? You have such promise, and yet here you waste away. Fighting against me, in a most futile effort."_

_Red eyes flashing, Voldemort suddenly gripped his chair tightly. He seemed to be struggling to stay calm, and Harry could see the warring insanity fighting to emerge. Snarling, his last thread on reality seemed to snap. _

"_You, a mere child! I am Lord Voldemort, all powerful! How can you have caused me such problems? I will be victorious; you shall bow before me and wonder! This war, my vision! I will not let you meddle yet again! I will kill you if I must!!"_

_Gasping, Harry recoiled in muted shock. This was the Voldemort he knew, the mad enraged Wizard bent on causing hell on earth. This was the monster that had killed his friends. Feeling the calming darkness calling to him, he closed his eyes, praying for an escape. _

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	8. Chapter 8

Opening his eyes, Draco frowned. It seemed he had fallen asleep in the hospital wing, missing most of his classes. Why the meddlesome medi-witch had not waked him was a mystery. Glancing around, he sighed in relief. He was alone. Well, apart from the comatose boy he visited. Staring down at said boy Draco gasped sharply.

For the first time in weeks, Harry Potter opened is eyes. He couldn't see a lot, his vision blurring to an extent that he thought he may need his glasses back after all. He could however, see who was holding his hand.

He had not expected to be released from his nightmarish prison so soon, if at all. His talk with Voldemort had left him with so many questions, but also with a keen sense of understanding. All he had seen, all he had witnessed, suddenly made sense. The death and destruction were a simple means to an end, one Harry could finally relate to. It wasn't as if death was a stranger to him, after all.

Letting go of Potters hand, Draco moved away quickly. He knew he had been seen, but wasn't sure what to do. Should he go tell someone? Should he leave? Stay? Thankfully the decision was taken out of his hands.

"Mr Potter! Oh thank goodness you're awake!"

Watching Hogwarts resident medi-witch tend to her silent patient, he made his decision. This war was quickly coming to a head, and he knew exactly who he was going to back. Come hell or high water.

* * *

Once he was finally left alone, Harry Potter mused on his situation. His place on the side of the light had been forsaken, thrown aside like nothing. Dumbledore had visited of course, pumping him for information about his visions. Harry had pleaded an ignorance of sorts, claiming to be unable to remember. He knew his story was unlikely to be accepted, but he wasn't too worried. He was still needed to fulfil the prophesy after all, and nothing anyone, not even Dumbledore, could do would change that.

In light of this, Harry considered Voldemort. They were more alike then even he had realised, and disturbingly he could easily relate to the older wizard, insane or no. It did not change much however, and he knew he could never join him. No matter what he had gone through, what he had seen, he could never join with his parent's murderer. To do so would be the ultimate betrayal, something even Harry shuddered at.

So that left only one option. Neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort could offer him what he needed, and so he would have to get it himself. Both had much to account for, and even if it killed him, he would see they paid their penance.

Relaxing into his pillows, Harry closed his eyes. His time in the hospital wing had done him good; the restorative potions he was forced to consume helped to rebuild his previously lost muscles, and gave him back his healthy figure. He still felt his depression eating at his mind, but he vowed to contain it. He needed to get stronger, both physically and magically if he was going to achieve.

It wouldn't be long before he was let back to classes, and back into the student body. He knew he was hated, his lack of visitors proved that, but he wouldn't let it stop him. He had a cause now, an aim to strive for, and a purpose. It wouldn't be easy, but he was Harry Potter, When was anything ever?

* * *

He was released on a Thursday, luckily leaving him with only one lesson of the day. Care of magical creatures was never the same anymore, remaining eerily quiet and subdued. Hagrid had taken his students deaths hard, and though he still taught, he was very cautious not to upset anyone in his class. Because of this, the creatures they learnt about were... well boring.

They were working on a magical form of earth worm that day, watching its effect on surrounding plants. A pointless exercise, but no one complained. The 'safe' choice of creature was met by resignation, no one wanting to complain.

Harry stood at the back of the class, watching with a detached interest. The students were usually split down the middle, half Gryffindor, half Slytherin. Now Slytherin made up over 2 3rds of the class. A large part of Harry mourned this. So many had died, or been pulled out of school by their parents. Hogwarts, and the safety she provided, was failing.

Tuning out Hagrids tentative lecture, the boy who lived watched his class mates. They were quiet, withdrawn, united only in their fear and uncertancy. And of course, their continued distrust and hatred of himself.

The slytherins were as arrogant as ever, but even they showed signs of stress and worry. They were only children after all, and Harry mused that out of all the students, they were likely to be the ones affected the most. Shunted into Slytherin they were expected to be dark, evil. Some embraced it, but others...

Harrys gaze drifted to Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin with the most to lose, or gain. The blonde boy was an enigma to Harry, a fascination. He understood him, could relate to his worries, his fears. It meant a lot to Harry, to have that. Even when he and Ron, and even Hermione, had been friends, they had never really understood him. How could they, they were happy.

Draco Malfoy wasn't happy. Far from it in fact. Harry understood that though, understood the pain, the anguish. It was what kept them alive, what made them fight on. Voldemort had shown him that.

It was important, Harry mused, to have an ally during this war. He was realistic; he knew he couldn't hope to defeat Voldemort alone, let alone Dumbledore. Maybe the young Slytherin would be helpful to him, if he let him.

Maybe.


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